


Summer Storms

by Pax_2735



Series: Prompts [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Jonsa Drabble Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pax_2735/pseuds/Pax_2735
Summary: A collection of drabbles.(Writen for the Jonsa Drabble Fest)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786966
Comments: 112
Kudos: 100
Collections: Jon x Sansa Drabble





	1. Brothers and Sisters (Linger)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I own nothing except the mistakes.
> 
> Day 1: Linger

He sits in the Great Hall far past anyone else, only the scurrying of servants as they clean and shoot him dirty looks as they long for their own beds disrupting the silence that has fallen after everyone has retired for the night.

The faint sound of footsteps echoes on the stone floors and he hides a grin underneath a tankard of ale. He has drunk plenty this night but the haze has long since dissolved from his brain and he’s glad of it. He doesn’t wish to be drunk. Not for this. Not for her.

She enters the hall with her chin held high, a true queen in everything but name. Her steps are sure as she makes her way towards him, as she stops in front of the table that serves as a barrier between them now.

“Brother.” There’s a reproachful tone in the way she says it, a hint of scorn in the bite of her tongue, as though the word offends her personally. He wonders why. The gods know he has stopped caring about the meaning of such words long ago, long before he knew the truth he has yet to share with her.

“Sister,” he answers, and she raises a brow as the corners of her lips curl in the beginnings of a smile. She makes her way around the table, a finger dragging across the polished wood as she keeps her eyes lowered to the ground.

“I was wondering where you might be,” she says. Her tone is soft and demure but, as she makes her way slowly to his side, her eyes flicker up to meet his and there’s a hint of steel there, one he reads with ease. _I thought you were with her._

He wants to reassure her. He wants to tell her that that’s over, that now that he’s back here, with her, he cannot think about anything else. He wants to share with her the truth he has just learned, how this thing between them, this _living, breathing thing_ doesn’t need to be hidden anymore.

His hands find their way to her hips easily and give her a harsh tug. Her blue eyes flit nervously around but the servants have finally left now that their lady is here to deal with him, and they are blissfully alone. He pulls her down onto his lap, one hand secure around her waist as the other makes its way slowly under her skirts until he can touch smooth, warm skin. Her hands spear through his curls as she brings him closer, their lips only an inch apart when he murmurs, “There are things I need to tell you.”

“Tomorrow,” she breathes against his lips and he happily complies.

Tomorrow he and his cousin will talk. But tonight he wants to fuck his sister one last time.


	2. Robb(ed) (Stolen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For day 2 of the Jonsa Drabble Fest.
> 
> Prompt: Stolen

Robb steps inside the Stark residence, his eyes following Jon’s measured moves with interest. He looks calm and collected but Robb can see the way his eyes flit around nervously, searching for something.

“We’re here,” Robb yells out, and there’s a scurry of sound coming from the kitchen a moment before Sansa appears in the doorway, her eyes lighting up the second they land on his best friend, and she squeaks. Fucking s _queaks_ , right before she flies into Jon’s arms so quickly Robb’s afraid they’ll both land on the floor, but Jon moves just as fast and they’re both clinging to each other in a hug so intimate it almost makes him want to avert his eyes. As it is, Robb merely clears his throat. Loudly.

She pulls back from Jon and her eyes are positively glinting as she looks him up and down before she swats him playfully. “I can’t believe I’ve been back almost three weeks and I still hadn’t seen you.”

“I know.” Jon is smiling harder than Robb’s ever seen him do before as he nods his head towards him. “I kept telling your brother to set something up but he was always stalling.”

She shrugs casually, her arms still around Jon. “He’s probably just worried I’m gonna steal you from him.”

Jon smirks. “Or that I’ll steal _you_ from him.”

She cocks her head to the side before giving Jon a mischievous smile. “Maybe we should just steal each other already.” She gives a slight nod towards Robb. “You know, put him out of his misery and all that.”

Robb narrows his eyes at them, trying to hide the smile that’s desperate to break free. “Are you two done flirting with each other?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa looks at Jon in mock concentration, her eyes squinting at him before her playful smile is back full force. “Are we done?”

Jon shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes still glued to her. “Yeah, probably. You know I suck at flirting with pretty girls.”

She laughs as she starts to move back into the kitchen, her hand giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Very smooth Snow.”

Jon follows her without hesitation, and Robb can hear the two of them chatting away happily while he’s left standing in the entrance, the smile now fully showing across his face. They may tease him about it all they want, but Robb knows those two have already stolen each other’s hearts.

Even if they don’t know it yet.


	3. Twists and Turns (Beyond the Wall)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the same universe as [Dancing with two left feet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640941) , although you do not need to read that to understand and (hopefully) enjoy this drabble. 
> 
> Jon and Sansa are living amongst the wildlings pretending to be a couple, but feelings develop and what started as a ruse to keep her safe has turned into something they both want to be real.

The ceremony is… unusual, although little in Sansa’s life is as expected nowadays.

Jon had always kept to the Old Gods but she had been raised in both faiths, and he had insisted on mingling the two together despite her own insistence that it didn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. All she cares about is that they’ll be married. _For real._

Still, she has to admit that she loves the way it all flows together, how they pick and choose only what suits them and blend it together to create something uniquely theirs. She’s the one that gives herself away, a flutter of warmth coursing through her blood when he claims her as his.

The feast that follows is as lively as ever. The food is still scarce but there’s plenty of drinking and the jokes get bawdier as it goes, but Sansa laughs as heartily at them as everyone else. After almost nine moons living with the Free Folk she’s getting better at this, even if her cheeks still flush at some of the things she hears.

She’s dancing with Tormund when her husband comes to her. Sansa curtsies and Jon laughs before pulling her into his arms with a confidence that betrays nothing of the shy boy she had once tried to teach how to dance.

Their bodies are flush against each other as they sway to the music, one of his hands coming up to tenderly place a lock of hair behind her ear. He moves forward and Sansa closes her eyes for a kiss, but his mouth chooses to trace a path of fire against her jaw until he’s breathing against her ear. “Ready for the next part love?”

She gasps when he lightly bites her lobe, her cheeks heating at the thought of it. They have been getting bolder with each other since that first kiss, and she’s no stranger now to the pleasure they can give to one another with their hands and mouths. She’s still a maid though, and want and trepidation both course through her veins at the thought of what’s to come.

He seems to read her mind and pulls back slightly to place his forehead against hers, his knuckles caressing her cheek as his eyes crinkle into a smile. “Soon my love. But I meant the rest of this wedding.”

She pulls back to look at him, curiosity in her eyes. “What rest?”

He smiles at her, his boyish grin turning roguish before he lowers his head and whispers, “I’m going to steal you now.” He moves fast, his upper body bending to grab her by the waist and throw her over his shoulder in a smooth movement, and she yelps in surprise a moment before his words register and she bursts into laughter. She can hear the rest of the villagers laughing and hollering along as Jon begins to move them towards their hut.


	4. In Plain Sight (Hidden)

When Tyrion suggests marriage as a way to solve their problems in the North he’s deep into his cups and Jon almost laughs it off as a joke.

He has been named the Prince of Winterfell after Daenerys recognized him as her kin and made him heir to the throne, but the northern lords are neither convinced nor happy with the current state of affairs. It is only the threat of dragon fire raining across the northern landscape that has kept them in line, but it doesn’t escape anyone’s notice how fickle that control is.

It’s the name, Tyrion says. Jon seems to have the wrong one for the role and it would have made Jon’s mouth twitch in amusement if not for the solution that has been presented.

Marriage. To a Stark girl.

He’d be lying if he claims his heart hadn’t thumped at the prospect, or that his blood isn’t rushing through his body in heady anticipation when Sansa finally arrives at the capital. He has long since stopped viewing her as his sister, his mind at last accepting the truth his heart has surrendered to.

But his heart stops beating at the same time the blood freezes in his veins when they convene to discuss the terms of his marriage to Arya Stark.

“Arya is my sister,” he snaps, with all the righteous indignation of someone being suggested they commit a vile sin, only for his words to sink in a moment too late, and he knows he has said the wrong thing.

Daenerys is looking at him, a shrewd look in her violet gaze, as though she’s daring him to explain this sudden change of heart, taunting him to continue, but he cannot. He can’t explain this to her when he knows what she’ll do with such knowledge, how she will hold it over his head and use it as a mean to an end.

Sansa’s face remains a stony mask, but he hasn’t spent the better part of the last few years by her side without learning how to read her, how to see the cracks in the façade she so often presents to the world. It’s the small things that give her away. The way her mouth parts in the slightest before pursing so keenly her pink lips turn ghostly white. The stoic form her hands remain locked in front of her, with only the barest movement of her thumb as it rubs over the back of her hand. Her blue gaze doesn’t widen in surprise at his words nor does it narrow in promise of violent retribution the moment they are alone; instead it pierces him with a coldness that rivals the Wall itself.

She could kill a man with that look alone. But instead she chooses words and he braces himself for the brutal onslaught he’s certain she’s about to unleash.

“You’re a Targaryen. How is that a problem?”


	5. Open Your Eyes (The Wall)

It’s been six days since Sansa’s arrival at Castle Black when Jon takes her to the top of the Wall.

She had come to him looking ragged and torn, fleeing yet another marriage being forced upon her by men who had no such right, and the days since had been spent mostly in each other’s company, sharing memories and experiences and getting to know one another in a way it saddens Jon to admit neither had ever cared to do before.

He takes her up there to try to lighten her spirits after a particularly brutal night spent recollecting their earlier days away from home, Jon’s own disillusionment with the reality of the Night’s Watch paling in comparison to her tale of Lady’s horrifying death.

She grumbles under her breath on the way up, snarks about the biting cold and the early hour and _stupid brothers with little sense whatsoever_ , and Jon smiles with fondness at the small glimpse of the spoiled child she once was.

But once they arrive at the top her grumbling stops and she is stunned into silence.

The sun is beginning to rise over the frozen lands and Jon keeps a careful hand around her waist as she stumbles her way to the very edge.

The color of the clear sky is no match to the blue of her widened eyes as she watches in awe the first few rays of sunlight alight the snow in hues of soft pink and gold. Her auburn locks seem to catch fire, a river of molten copper down her back, brushing softly against his hand, and Jon’s breath catches in his suddenly dry throat. He has always known his sister was beautiful but this is the first time he feels as though he’s truly seeing it.

She parts her mouth and the frigid air moistens with the breath that passes between her pink lips and gods… his body stirs at the sight of her.

Jon swallows, stunned as the realization hits him just as she turns to give him a brilliant smile.

_Fuck._


	6. Summer Flings (Autumn)

Sansa steps out of her brother’s car and runs a hand through her hair, mindlessly making sure it’s presentable, before looking over her shoulder at Robb and throwing out a ‘see you later’. He nods at her before he strolls away, probably to look for Jeyne. Sansa doesn’t really care. She has some looking out to do of her own.

The hallways are filled with students loudly greeting each other, now that summer’s over and they are all back for the first day of school. Sansa nods left and right, stopping to exchange polite words and friendly hugs with a bunch of them. She’s hardly the most popular girl at school but she tries to be friendly to everybody, and most of her fellow students seem to be friendly right back.

She makes her way across the hallways as her eyes scan the crowds, looking for a familiar head of dark curls amidst a rowdy group of boys typically dressed in all black. Sansa doesn’t really have a crowd per se but, if she did, she’s sure it wouldn’t be like this one, filled with detentions and cigarettes and the dark, depressing music she’s sure they must hear.

But Jon Snow, well… it’s another matter entirely.

He had given her a ride home late one night, after she had gone to the movies and somehow mixed up the schedules and ended up missing the last bus. Normally she’d have called her brother to come give her a ride but Jon and Robb had been good friends back when they were kids and Jon was sweet offering to help her.

That had been the start of it.

A friendly ride and a friendly conversation, followed by casual meetings that were anything but and, soon enough, Sansa Stark and Jon Snow were spending every other night (as well as a number of afternoons) making out hot and heavy in the backseat of his car. She blushes slightly as she remembers some of the things they did. His hands always feel delicious against her skin and that mouth… she shivers as she thinks about the things that mouth can do.

But then she had taken a trip down south with her family and, after coming back, he hadn’t been around. It’s been nearly a month since the last time she’s seen him and she feels like she’s bursting out of her skin.

She rounds the corner that leads to her locker and she stops dead in her tracks, suddenly frozen. Right there, straight across from her, stands Jon Snow and his friends. He’s leaning against the wall, black t-shirt bunched around his arms, his hair a riot of curls as he listens to the conversation around him. But suddenly he looks up and his grey eyes lock with hers. He gives her a lazy smile just as the blonde girl next to him leans over to whisper something in his ear, her face much too close as she presses a hand against his shoulder.

Sansa’s eyes narrow dangerously. Jon smirks.


	7. The way I look at you (Free day)

“When you look at me, what do you see?” Sansa realizes her voice has a needy, almost childlike quality to it as soon as the words are out of her mouth, but shrugs it off. She’s a talented, intelligent woman – she has a demanding job, gods be damned, one she got not because of her family name but because she earned it, through hard work and dedication – but three hours into this fucking party and she can feel her confidence plummeting, too many family friends complimenting her on her beauty, too many sons of family friends eye-fucking her as though she’s nothing but a pretty trinket for them to play with.

It’s a stark reminder of what her life once was and all the expectations she had shot to hell.

Jon lifts an eyebrow, his patented smirk gracing his lips as he gives her a pointed once over and she rolls her eyes as she rethinks her words. “Ok, I realize I left myself wide open for that,” she rushes out and he chuckles, “so let me rephrase. If you had to describe me to someone, what would you say?”

To the outside world Jon might be the weirdest choice to be looking to for reassurance. A notorious womanizer, his fame with the ladies is nothing short of legendary and he has never shied away from giving her the occasional leer. But he has also known her ever since they were both in diapers and, so far, he has yet to lie to her.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looks at her carefully, as though he’s giving this some serious thought, before his face splits up in a grin. “Is this a trick question?”

She huffs, wonders what the hell was she thinking as she turns her back on him and starts walking out the door before his voice stops her.

“I’d tell them you’re beautiful,” he breathes out, his voice soft and low, “inside and out.”

She turns to look at him with a crooked brow, half expecting that teasing smirk to be back full force, but his eyes are trained on the floor, and he looks almost… shy.

“I’d tell them you’re sweet and kind.” He looks up, his eyes more serious than she’s ever seen them as they lock with hers. “You’re one of the kindest people I know, always looking out for the best in everyone.”

She swallows, tries desperately to dislodge the lump that seems to have found its home in her throat, her voice coming out raspy even to her own ears and her heart stammers at the thought he might hear it too. “Thank you Jon.”

“I wasn’t finished,” he rasps. “You’re smart, incredibly so. And brave. So, so brave.”

She shakes her head, her eyes finally pulling away from his as she tries to steer this conversation to more familiar and less unsettling grounds. “Brave? Now I know you’re just making stuff up as you go along.” He’s shaking his head as she crosses the room in swift steps, coming to stand next to him before he can manage to say anything else. She leans forward, a hand against his strong chest for leverage and presses a kiss against his cheek. “But thanks for trying anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr - [Pax_2735](https://pax-2735.tumblr.com/)


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